


Ben Has Two Gay Best Friends

by regala_electra



Series: Ben Has Two Dads 'Verse [6]
Category: Glee, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-28
Updated: 2011-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regala_electra/pseuds/regala_electra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Ben Winchester transfers to Dalton and either helps or ruins Kurt Hummel’s life depending on who’s telling the story. A stirring tale of dude-bonding, how Blaine Anderson is temporarily categorized to be a douche bro under the estimation of a Mr. B. Winchester, a mystery of a slow-motion hallway is never solved, the heartbreak of first love is nursed via playing fairy godmother to a pair of lovestruck idiots, a GTO might actually save the day, and there is awesome air guitaring. The less said about the accidental almost-stabbing the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ben Has Two Gay Best Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt was _Ben at Dalton and the incurable charm of the Winchester genes_. Belatedly written for Ignited’s birthday. I believe I owe an undying supply of unsweetened iced tea to fourfreedoms for a fantastic beta.

As all epic stories go, once upon a time there were two awesome Winchesters who died for each other a lot and sometimes managed not to screw everything up and save the world a little on the side.

This is one of those stories after a fashion but it features a particular teenager who lately goes by the name Ben Winchester As chronicled in the tale _Ben Has Two ~~Dads~~ Uncles_ , he became a Winchester and lo, there were many adventures between him and his new family, as they did slay almost a dragon, if one is to believe Dean Winchester because that tale is pretty badass.

There were mermaids defeated in Florida at the very least and hey, mermaids will fuck your shit _up_.

Thus, Ben Winchester did grow up, traveling the country and while his education was a bit more chaotic than the average student, he did have his moments of near apple pie life, real stability, where he got to experience the glory of awkward high school drama. It was in Texas during his junior year where he met a feisty woman, the exact kind of girl doomed to capture a Winchester heart, and upon her graduating high school, she broke it with the kind of precision only afforded to that first young love experienced by a most foolhardy Winchester.

Now these Winchester men have a teenaged boy in need of a good final year of education for though his father might have a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude, his son should at least be afforded a few opportunities before his bullheaded Winchester je ne sais quois leads him right back into the family business.

To Ohio, therefore, they went, in pursuit of a good boarding school, seemingly an ideal place for a couple of traveling hunters and their stubborn ward to form a temporary base as Ben finishes out his school year. (See? This totally makes Dean Batman. Sam can be Alfred.)

And now, our story, of a kid just trying to find his way in the world while knowing there’s so much more than the humdrum rush of everyday life, can begin.

He’s not gonna screw up anything. Because he’s a Winchester.

Being a Winchester means win, after all. It’s in the name and everything.

 

*

 

Logically Ben knows that going to Dalton is a good choice. The last year in Texas had been something of a miserable bust when Noelle epically dumped him right before her graduation and he hadn’t been looking forward to his senior year, moping over every place in the town that reminds him of her. Ohio’s a lot closer to Indiana and he’s promised Mom that he’s going to visit her on the long weekends and now that he’s got his own car he doesn’t even have to rely on Dad and Sam to be his transportation.

Still, there’s a few weird things about Dalton.

First of all, there’s the fact that he’s pretty sure one of the hallways, off of the main staircase, is haunted. Time slows down and while no one’s been killed yet, anything could happen and it could very well kill them slowly.

Then there’s the Warblers. It’s like he’s got to be on constant alert for any moment that they’ll burst into song. The senior commons seems to be their favorite place of attack. Which should be a sign that Ben ought to study in his room but since he transferred relatively late (look, were-kittens are trickier to defeat than you’d think and it was an all hands on deck kind of hunt), his roommate is an underclassman named Kurt who is really fond of music that Ben has no desire to hear on a regular basis.

He’s pretty sure some of it is stuff he’s caught Sam listening to but Sam would probably deny it. Showtunes and longing ballads, and a lot of weird dance music that Ben suspects is Lady Gaga though Ben’s avoided pop thanks to Dad’s intense education that only covers the last great eras of rock.

Whenever Kurt’s out practicing with the Warblers, Ben puts his tunes on his souped up stereo (a gift from Sam for his birthday last year, not as awesome as his car from Dean, but Ben can’t keep his car in his room), and rocks the fuck out. If he’s listening to a playlist that he made to get over Noelle, well fuck you, he needs to hear it sometimes.

He’s halfway through _Run to the Hills_ , rocking his air guitar for all its worth when he hears a dry voice say, “Like I suspected. Definitely straight.”

“Oh, hey, Kurt,” Ben says, no good way to drop out of his rocking pose on top of his bed. “You guys ended practice early.”

“Are you going to keep playing that…noise?”

Ben’s learned a lot about his roommate in the just-over-a-week that they’ve been living together. Kurt’s got a lot of moods, most of them bitchy and a lot of them quiet but full of meaning. It’s kind of weird since he’s gotten so used to Dad and Sam’s energy, which is sometimes grossly…intimate, for lack of a better word, but still total dude, almost all the time. Kurt’s way different. He’s kind of stuck up and a little, well, Ben guesses, he’s prissy.

“Nah, I’ll turn it off.”

“Thanks.”

“So how was practice?”

“You actually want to know?”

Not really, but Ben’s done getting cross-eyed over stupid math questions that don’t answer how the fuck a slow-motion hallway is even possible without some major spooky shit happening. He’d tossed down some salt yesterday but it had gotten cleaned up over night so clearly that wasn’t going to be a good measure of figuring it out.

“Uh, making conversation.”

“You’ve barely spoken to me since you moved in,” Kurt points out and yeah, that’s true. “With only a duffel bag.”

Ben has the distinct impression that Kurt’s insulting him, but whatever, his duffel bag is awesome. “Learning the ropes. First time in an all-dude’s school. How do I know you’re not secretly crazy?”

“Good to know that you suspect me of insanity. I’m gay,” Kurt says, a bit of a challenge in his voice, raising his chin. As if it wasn’t obvious to anyone with eyes. “But I’m definitely not secretly planning to shave your head in the dead of night.”

“I know,” Ben says, wondering why Kurt’s looking at him like he expects him to…what?

Oh shit, he thinks Ben’s weirded out that Kurt’s into guys. “Look, I told admissions I didn’t care who my roommate was since they were fitting me in so late. My dad’s—”

And this is always the weird part, because his dad isn’t gay, or like, he’s just gay for Sam and it’s something that Ben doesn’t think too hard about because they’ve done a great job at not like overdoing it with the PDAs, and there’s the other part of their relationship that’s kind of not kosher at all. But Ben loves them both and he’s not letting anyone judge them for that, so he hasn’t even given a flying fuck about other guys being man-friendly. He’s not about to be a dick to some guy who likes dick.

“My parents raised me right,” Ben hedges, because sometimes he’s pretty sure Dad doesn’t think bringing him into the hunting world is being raised right, but there’s no way Ben would ever accept not fighting what he knows goes bump in the night. Turns out stubborn Winchester genes don’t ever skip a generation. “And uh, my dad’s...well I’ve got two dads.”

It’s a lame finish, but Kurt’s mouth is hanging open in shock and that’s a look Ben’s gotta appreciate, seeing how Kurt’s kind of okay when the smug’s wiped clean off his face. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Not something I advertise. People can be judgmental pricks.” Ben walks over to Kurt, who’s still frozen stock-still and he puts a hand on his shoulder, trying for friendly and hopefully not failing. “You’re not judging me, are you, prick?”

“I’m going to guess that’s your attempt at bonding?”

Ben shrugs. “Dude bonding.”

Kurt’s smile is pretty nice; he should do it more often. “It’s not every day I’m called a dude.”

 

*

 

So he and Kurt are kind of friends now. Friends who have no shared interests besides agreeing that the slow motion hallway is weird and that for sanity’s sake, they both need alone time in the room (and not just like that, but well, also like that). So they’ve set up shifts for keeping the peace and today is Ben’s day to skedaddle and he’s hoping the library is free from Warbler attacks.

Which is how he gets to have his first conversation with that dude always hanging around Kurt.

“I’m Blaine,” and Ben barely looks up from his notes to accept his handshake.

“I’m studying.”

“Really? I thought your name was Ben.”

“I’m Ben. Studying. Nice to meet you,” Ben says, as polite as possible because it’s rude to curse in a library. Or rather, he’s fought a library that attacked people who swore (haunted by a bitch of a librarian) and he’s not about to discover another one because no, he’s got a test and no desire to do self-triage post-battling the evil forces of an angry library. Encyclopedias can leave nasty welts.

“I thought Kurt might be with you,” Blaine says, pleasant and totally not taking the hint to go the fuck away.

“And why would you think that?”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

There’s an underlying implication there that Ben really doesn’t like. Plus Blaine sounds jealous which makes his charming act all the more annoying. Sure, Ben’s awesome but he’s not about to jack another dude’s boy even if he was into dudes.

Hell he waited like, a month for Noelle after she dumped her asshole boyfriend before he asked her out. Shit. He’s gone almost a whole day without thinking about her. Well, now he’s got no need to be polite to this Blaine asshole.

“Did you check his room? Or the ballroom? Or maybe the ballpit?”

“We don’t have a ball—” Blaine cuts himself off, realizing that Ben’s fucking with him. “Very funny. You know we have a zero tolerance policy here—”

“I know,” Ben interrupts.

“So if you have a problem with—”

“Gay dads,” Ben says, again cutting off Blaine, since it’s easier than the wretched explanation he gave to Kurt and he’s pretty sure Dad’ll forgive him for calling him gay since he is in big gay love with Sam after all, and it only took him a few years to finally admit it. “Don’t care what you do as long as you don’t—”

“What? Be _gay_ in front of you?”

Whoa. Dude’s got issues. “No, man. If you give me a second, I was gonna say, it’s all good so long as you don’t get all bitchy at me trying to steal your boyfriend or something.”

“Kurt is not my boyfriend,” Blaine says, automatically like he’s practiced it in a mirror.

Ben feels bad for Blaine and his epic denial for exactly one second. Then he thinks about it for about two seconds and realizes that Blaine is being possessive of a guy who he’s not even dating.

“Wow, you’re a dick.” Hopefully that doesn’t set off any ghostly librarians.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I don’t know where Kurt is. You could text him, like a normal person, or you can stalk every other guy who talks to him, but I’m not gonna sit here and deal with a guy in denial. Peace out, douche bro.”

Before Blaine can offer any other bullshit protests, that he’s just a friend, or whatever, Ben stalks out of the library, like a fucking boss.

Well, almost like a boss, because he quickly ducks into an empty classroom and starts hyperventilating because fuck, _Noelle_. She’d given him almost the same speech when he’d tried cozying up to her while she’d been dating someone else.

She’d even called him douche bro. It was one of her favorite nicknames for him, mostly when he was being an idiot, although she’d also use dicksmack a lot. Especially when he would show off in front of her and inevitably fall on his ass.

He’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be over her by now. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to go. Whatever, he hopes she’s real fucking happy.

Sometimes he lets himself believe that. It hurts worse that way.

 

*

 

“Blaine totally wants a ride on your disco stick.”

Kurt swivels around on his chair (a pretty nice one that clearly didn’t come with the room), a cotton ball full of some kind of moisturizing nonsense frozen halfway to his face.

“I see you’ve been listening to my Lady Gaga playlist,” Kurt says, a little too airily, so it sounds like he’s wheezing a little.

“Nah, Dean’s been saying that for a while.”

“Dean?”

“Oh. Dad. Sometimes I call him Dean. Long story.”

There’s really no way to easily segue into the whole story of how he found out Dean was really his dad without sounding all weird, considering most of it revolves around things that no one else knows really exists.

“Okay,” Kurt says, deciding to drop it.

“So. Blaine.”

“No,” Kurt says, confident in that at least. “No, Ben. We’re not talking about what Blaine wants. I don’t even think Blaine understands what he wants. We are not going to lady chat about it.”

“Lady chat, huh? You know, that’s what my dad would call it when Sam would try to talk to me about love and shit.”

“As appealing as it sounds to talk about love and shit, I think I’ll save it for my actual friends.”

Ben’s really starting to appreciate Kurt’s sarcasm. It does weirdly remind him of Sam, who he misses despite the weekly phone call that Sam springs on him to make sure Ben’s not fucking around and skipping his homework while he and Dean are up in the Ozarks battling mutated creepy crawlies.

“You know, I tried to do the whole friends thing with someone I loved. Eventually we realized we were being dumbasses, well, I realized it. She knew all along but was waiting for me to catch up.”

“And what happened?”

“It was perfect. We loved each other,” Ben admits. “Then she broke my fucking heart.”

Kurt’s mouth twists in an ugly way. “You’re fantastic at motivation.”

All Ben says is, “It was worth it.”

He’s gotta believe that, or it wouldn’t be worth hurting so fucking much.

 

*

 

So what if he’s using his awesome hunting abilities to spy on Kurt and Blaine? His skills will atrophy if he doesn’t put them to good use and hey, it turns out the Warblers aren’t that bad to listen to though they do sing a lot of crappy Top 40.

It’s not that hard to notice how totally into each other they are. It’s kind of obnoxious how careful they both are not to make a fucking move. He wonders briefly if this is what it looked like on the outside when he was totally falling for Noelle, which would explain why her lunkhead boyfriend tried to beat the crap out of him.

Too bad Ben’s got fighting skills care of being a badass and learning the best from Dean. It’s not fighting dirty if you’re kicking ass. However he thinks his fighting skills aren’t exactly the best way to convince Kurt and Blaine to finally kiss and make out.

“Are you planning on joining the Warblers?” Kurt asks one afternoon when the impromptu Warblers session ends in the usual amount of applause.

“Nah, I haven’t been able to sing Stairway right since my voice broke.”

Sometimes Ben says this shit just for the nauseated look in Kurt’s face. They’ve barely talked about Kurt’s old school (all Ben really knows is that he’s a recent transfer too) but from what he’s picked up, Kurt’s old glee club did a lot of rock numbers that Kurt most definitely was not a fan of, which is a little tragic. The poor bastard wouldn’t know good music if it snuck up on him.

“So you’re just an admirer of my vocal talents.”

“You do have a good voice,” Ben admits, because it is true and there’s no reason to deny Kurt an earned compliment.

“But?”

“What?”

“Come on, Ben. You’ve been hanging out more and more. Blaine’s been getting agitated by it, I honestly think he believes you’re gay.”

“Just because I’m pretty doesn’t make me gay.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Yes, you’re very attractive, I greatly appreciate that your shirt tail is zipped into your pants. Trying a new fashion trend?”

It’s awesome luck. The moment Kurt’s asking this, Blaine’s heading over, clearly trying to casually interrupt the conversation in a way that’ll be polite but also grossly _get away from my man even though I’m making it my mission to cockblock us into the friendzone forever_ , something that Ben is just so not down with, as per the bro code. Kurt’s kind of his bro in a way, and he’s gonna get the boy laid if it kills him. So Ben plays the card he’s been dealt.

“Hey, at least it got you to look.”

Ben expects a lot of things to possibly happen. Kurt’s biting sarcasm or an annoyed huff of breath, perhaps even a smack on his chest. What he did not expect was a surprised laugh, the kind of flirty, dirty laugh that Ben’s produced from well, girls. He raises his eyebrows because really, game on, Hummel. Ben can so win this flirt-off and if he glances over his shoulder to see Blaine’s usual calm mask utterly crack, well it’s worth it.

He only hopes Kurt noticed it too.

“You’re _awful_ , Ben,” Kurt says, but clearly he means that Ben’s awesome, which is to be expected, because Ben’s a fucking rock star, even without singing.

Originally he’s pretty sure his motive in getting these two stupid guys to finally give it up to each other was all he wanted, but now he’s starting to think he wouldn’t mind having an actual friend. Call it a side mission or an extra bonus or whatever the fuck.

Slinging an arm around Kurt as they walk out of the room, he says, “Awful meaning the best person in the whole fucking world, right?”

“Classy as always,” Kurt says, not even giving Blaine a second glance.

Oh. Well. Fuck.

Hey. At least maybe this way, something’ll give. Ben’s not a miracle worker and the few miracle workers he does know aren’t able to work a little mojo over love.

It’s dangerous to fuck with love like that.

Ben should probably feel a little guilty but once they’re way out of earshot, Kurt mutters, “I think I know what you’re doing.”

“Is it working?”

“Not yet.”

“Hey. That’s better than a solid no. You stick with me, and you’ll be sticking it to Blaine in no time.”

“You’re kind of a romantic, aren’t you?”

“You say that like it’s a surprise. I’m still mooning over my ex. She dumped me in June. That’s serious love right there.”

Kurt stops them in the hallway.

“Maybe I could help with that.”

“Well, like I said, I’m cool with guys liking dick, but it’s not something I’ve ever had the munchies for, you know?”

“Okay, that’s disgusting,” Kurt says, wrinkling his nose. “And no, I didn’t mean _that_. I know cheerleaders. Well. Ex-cheerleaders.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Exactly. Oh. You have a particular type?”

“Um.” Under his dad’s tutelage, Ben has learned that there’s no reason to deny a chick based solely on stupid shit like blondes are hotter or something. Briefly, he flashes on Noelle, the way she’d tied up her dreds with a fucking hot pink scrunchie and was the hottest chick in the entire state of Texas when she flashed that little half-smile of hers and oh fuck, he’s supposed to be answering a question. “Single.”

“Your criteria is single? Well,” Kurt says, considering the options, “that can be arranged.”

“Um. Not in a cult? Ideally.”

Ben’s not terribly fond of evil cults. Up until Noelle popped his cherry, he’d have to be extra-vigilant when he, Dad, and Sam were up against cults; they _really_ liked their virgin sacrifices.

“So no one too religious? Again, that’s not too hard to find among my contacts.”

“You kinda sound like a pimp.”

Kurt laughs. “Who says I’m not? I’ll have you know I have some pretty fabulous hats.”

Ben’s starting to realize that he should be worried when Kurt raises his eyebrow. It's almost diabolical.

 

*

 

Ben loves Kurt.

He loves him in that wonderful straight dude loving on a gay dude way of utter bromance for life, because Ben has just gotten laid with no consequences and it feels so fucking good.

Well. Sort of laid. If oral counts, and Ben honestly counted it as foreplay before, but beggars ought not to be choosers, so laid it is.

He’s climbing into the window way past curfew, but there’s a reason why he’s learned rappelling and sneaking into buildings is needed in his line of work.

“What the hell?”

“Oh,” Ben says as he’s still pulling himself into the room, one of his legs dangling over the sill, “you’re awake.”

“Yes, I was a little worried you were dead or Santana ate your heart or _something_.”

“I believe,” Ben says, trying for dignified but totally gloating, “That all the eating was done on my part to the lady. Particularly in between her thighs. I went down on her.”

“Any favor I ever think to do for you in the future will be negated by that overshare.”

“Dude, oral sex is a healthy part of any relationship.”

“You’re dating Santana now? Also, gross.”

“Well, no. I think it’s a one night stand. She told me ‘don’t text me, I’ll text you’ so I’m pretty sure that was her way of letting me down nicely.”

“Santana. Nice,” Kurt says, dubiously.

“Orgasms make people nice,” Ben says, a little defensively. Sure, Santana was mean and called him a rentboy (hey he can’t help favorable genetics) but she did get into a much better mood as the evening progressed.

God, Ben’s forgotten how dumb-happy he gets after sex.

“I’m learning all kinds of wonderful things about you tonight. You know how to rappel, how to make Santana non-repellant, and have ensured that I will never understand straight sex.”

“It’s like gay sex, but with another place to stick your dick.”

Kurt scrubs his face with his hands for a long moment before he finally deigns to speak. “Stop saying words.”

“Kurt,” Ben says, sincerely, because right now all he wants to do is hug the world, and he might be smiling manically but that’s okay, because the world loves him right back. “I truly wish that when Blaine finally mans the fuck up that he goes down on you with as much skill as I have experienced this night. And gusto, because it’s not talent that makes it awesome, it’s loving the fuck out of fucking.”

Kurt stiffly walks back to his bed, settling back down and drawing the covers over his body. “I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that. So that I don’t throttle you to death.”

“Are you worried because you’ve never had sex before? Look even if the first time isn’t awesome, you can always try, try again. That’s the best part.”

“Hate you,” Kurt calls out as he turns off his bedside lamp.

“You love me,” Ben says confidently, shucking off his clothes before changing into a clear pair of boxers. “You helped me get _laid_.”

“Never again,” comes the reply in the darkness.

“You’re right. It’s time for me to return the favor. Ow.”

Kurt’s got some impressive aim for someone tossing a pillow in the dark.

 

*

 

Ben’s nowhere close to mastering mechanics on the fly like Dad can, but he’s pretty good. He damn well better be because his baby might be the finest piece of ass on the road, but when she’s feeling like it, she can be a major bitch.

She is not fond of the colder conditions in Ohio, since she’d been born out of Dad’s hands in the heat of Texas. Sometimes she acts up, just a little, without provocation, until it’s time for Ben to get elbows deep in grease, trying to solve a riddle he can barely read. He really wishes Dad, or even Sam was within driving distance this week, but they’re off in Florida and the one thing Ben’s taken away from his few trips down there is that Florida is really fucking weird and whatever they’re hunting, it’s gonna keep them a good long while.

“Problem?”

“Kurt!” Ben almost slams his head on the open hood as he stands up. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

“Well, you were yelling at your car. At least, I hope this is your car.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” Ben grumbles. “I was encouraging.”

“A likely story. Restored GTO, huh? I figured you’d be into the classics but this is a little nicer than I thought.”

“You’re lucky I’m so used to you insulting my excellent taste,” Ben says, feebly trying to wipe some of the grease off of his hands. “Yeah, my dad built her from a total rust bucket and she’s been doing okay, except for today. I’m a decent mechanic but my dad’s awesome. She needs awesome today.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve heard you admit you’re not awesome,” Kurt says, a little surprised. He’s unbuttoning his coat as he speaks and before Ben can ask what the hell, Kurt’s rooting through his tools spread out on the ground. “You really need to take better care of these.”

“I know,” Ben says automatically, hearing his dad in Kurt’s words. He hasn’t had as much opportunity to work on the car and that’s probably why she’s out of sorts. Then realizing that Kurt Hummel is fucking around inside his baby, he says, “Hey, do you know what you’re doing?”

“My dad’s a mechanic,” Kurt says dismissively, as if that’s all the answer Ben deserves.

“So’s my dad. Kind of. He’s a jack of all trades.”

“Good for your dad,” Kurt mutters. “Actually wait, I mean it, he rebuilt this engine from scratch? I’m impressed.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Weirdly, Ben is actually happy that Kurt approves. His judgment is rarely offered in the positive so he savors the small victory. “My dad spent last year working on her. A birthday present for me.”

“Well, a lot of love when into this,” Kurt says when he surfaces. “But you need a couple of new parts, nothing major but I doubt you have them in your trunk.”

“Tell me your dad has them in his shop.”

“He does, but I doubt you want to waste your Friday and Saturday going out to Lima, since I’m not wasting my entire weekend driving you back here so that we can get it fixed. You could call a tow truck and get someone local to the job but—”

“Kurt,” Ben says with all the sincerity he can muster, hand on his chest, “I will marry you this instant if it would save my baby.”

“That is one of the most disturbing sentences I have ever heard.” It’s probably true considering that any attempts at further broaching the subject of sex and any questions Kurt might have about the wonders of a good blowjob have been artfully shut down ever since Ben’s post-orgasm happy ramble.

Though Kurt really does need to know that if he plans to spit he has to at least broadcast that before letting a guy come into his mouth. It’s just rude not to give a guy a head’s up. Heh. Head.

“You’d have to change your last name to mine. I’m not becoming Ben Hummel.”

He says this very loudly since once again Blaine’s Kurt-sense has gone haywire and he’s on the hunt and hungry like the wolf for Kurt, because how dare he spend more than five minutes in the presence of Ben.

“You’re insane.”

“Kurt Winchester. Think about it,” he says and he totally gets a splotch of grease on Kurt’s nose when he bops him.

“You bastard!”

“Everything all right?”

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt says, trying to straighten up and look cool even with grease on his face. Well Ben can’t fault a guy for trying to impress. “We’re fine. Ben’s having a little car trouble.”

“I see,” Blaine says, eyeing Ben’s car disdainfully, and if he weren’t such a short, ridiculous dude, Ben would mark him as an enemy for life for dissing his lady. “Any luck?”

“Yes, because it turns out his good friend knows a thing or two about cars.” Kurt definitely deserves the smug satisfaction in self-congratulating himself so Ben doesn’t make any sarcastic comments about how Kurt can't brag at how manly he is when he almost banned Ben from their room for eating Cheetos in the vicinity of Kurt’s bed. “You don’t mind a third wheel to our trip back to Lima, right? I’ve got to get a couple of parts from dad’s shop, and then I’ll be able to fix Ben’s car when we get back to school Saturday evening.”

Blaine works his jaw for a couple of seconds as he tries to process the most polite way to say hell no before he responds with, “No, of course not,” because he is a polite, whipped motherfucker when it comes to Kurt.

How has Ben not used that bit of intel yet?

Man, get laid once and you really screw up your long-term mission.

“Great! Ben, do you have your duffel ready? I hope you don’t mind crashing at my house overnight. There’s a couch with your name on it.”

“Well when you put it that way, how can I resist your couch?”

Double innuendo for the win. Blaine looks like he’s about to explode.

Closing the hood of his baby, he thinks she might have done him a good turn. Messing with Blaine will be much easier with them cooped up in Kurt’s ride and maybe he might make some headway in getting those two crazy kids together.

 

*

 

Coffee at the Lima Bean is something of an event rather than just coffee. That he and Blaine have the same order of a medium drip is hilarious and irritates Blaine on the principal of the matter or something. Though Ben doesn’t sully it with cinnamon, for fuck’s sake.

When the obviously anticipated visit of two of Kurt’s friends kicks off, that’s when shit gets real.

The short, cute-in–an-intense-way brunette, Rachel practically mauls him upon hearing that Ben’s straight and he’s got two gay dads. Which is kind of true but still, it doesn’t make them soul mates no matter how many crazy-eyed looks she throws his way. Mercedes is cooler and reminds him of Noelle sorta, probably since she doesn’t take any shit and fondly rolls her eyes when Kurt gets overly enthusiastic that the Warblers might consider an actual Broadway tune for competition.

“I don’t sing,” Ben informs the table at large and it’s satisfying to see Rachel’s manic glimmer fade at his confession. “But Kurt sounds pretty good. Blaine’s okay too, I guess.”

God, it’s getting to be way too fun. Ben swears that Blaine’s angrily chomping down on his biscotti. He wonders what’ll get Blaine to start shredding his napkin.

“It’s a shame you don’t have any interest in music,” Rachel begins before Kurt interrupts her.

“No, he does. While he’s tragically stuck in early 80s most of the time, I have learned to appreciate the quality of Robert Plant’s voice when he’s in his 70s mood.”

This is news to Ben and he can’t help being a little touched. Led Zeppelin is what he listens to when he’s really missing hanging with Dad and Sam. It’s not like being homesick, not at all, because there’d have to be a home to be sick after, but it’s close.

“Really,” Ben asks, unable to help himself. “What song?”

“Despite how many times you listen to _Immigrant Song_ over and over again, I actually look forward to hearing _When the Levee Breaks_.”

“That’s my dad’s favorite. Well, his secret favorite.”

“You must really miss your dad, huh?” Mercedes asks, the understatement of the year.

“Yeah. I mean. I didn’t even know he was really my dad until I was thirteen,” and he stops at that, realizing that save for Noelle, he’s never told that to anyone, not the people that he once considered friends of a sort until he moved on to the next school and the next.

No, he never told anyone that, because he figured it was too messy and too important to say to people he’d never see again and here he is spilling the truth to these people, near strangers, even Kurt.He realizes that he wants them to know about him, so desperately, if only to make sense of it himself. Fuck it, he knows who he is, but sometimes, he wonders where he’s going to go with all the strange shit in his life shaping him into this weird balance of utterly awesome badass and awkward teenager who knows too much, much too soon.

“Go on,” Kurt says finally, when the silence stretches too long. “What about—about your mother?”

Ben files that hesitation away, he’s never heard anything about Kurt’s mom, though he’s aware that his dad is remarried and Kurt’s got a stepbrother the same age as him. “Well she’s still in Indiana. That’s where I’m from. She got married recently. But I didn’t know who my dad was growing up. Uh, it’s a really long story, but when I was younger, I kind of met him, only my mom didn’t say he was my dad at the time. Then I found out when I was thirteen. So I ran away to find him.”

It’s no surprise, the chorus of questions, but he’s mostly shocked by Blaine’s question, which is almost kind. Hey, maybe beneath the hair gel, denial, and carefully constructed persona, there’s a real person in there somewhere.

“How did you survive on your own?”

“Dumb luck? Luck of a Winchester.” No one laughs and he realizes that it’s a family saying, a hunter saying, and his mom is the only possible _outsider_ to get it. “Dean, uh, Dad, was pissed I ran off but I guess my luck was still working ‘cause I got to stay with him, and uh, Sam.”

“Your other dad?” Rachel asks.

“I guess,” Ben says because it’s the easiest way to explain it. “Of course, I thought he was Uncle Sam for a while. My dad didn’t really want to explain it.”

“He didn’t want you to know he was gay?” Mercedes asks, sharing a brief look with Kurt.

“God, no. I guess—look, it’s uh, weird, but my dad likes chicks, I mean, he likes women too. A lot.” He thinks about laying on the cheese then, lifting an eyebrow and saying, _got all my best tricks from him_ but he quickly discards the idea figuring it would be confusing at best.

“Bisexual,” Kurt says, after a hesitation, curiously directing the comment to Blaine, of all people. He refuses to look Kurt in the eyes, but there’s a brief frown that crosses Blaine’s face.

“More like Sam-sexual. Oh god,” Ben says, shutting his eyes. “Gross. Parent sex. I am not thinking about it. It’s my—family, you know? I really don’t want to know. We don’t talk about it.”

“That doesn’t seem very healthy,” Rachel begins to say before wincing, obviously from a well-delivered kick care of Kurt.

“Do you ask about what goes on between the sheets in your parents’ bedroom?” Or living room floor, Ben briefly thinks, an unbidden memory flitting across his mind before he successfully re-blocks it.

The simultaneous shudders from the table are answer enough.

“New topic, perhaps,” Kurt offers, a moment of grace that Ben takes happily.

“Wanna hear about the time I pulled a grand theft auto? It’s why I didn’t get my car until last year.”

 

*

 

He doesn’t meet Kurt’s stepbrother Finn until he’s back at Kurt’s house, setting up the couch into a makeshift bed. It’s pretty cozy actually but not much of a sleeping place when a lumbering giant plops down on the couch, giving him a quizzical stare.

“Hey. You’re not Blaine.”

“What gave it away? That I’m almost half a foot taller than him or that we look nothing alike? Unless private school boys look all the same to you. Which is offensive.”

He's only gotten more sarcastic thanks to rooming with Kurt and really, he has to spread the wealth.

“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean, hey, wait a minute. You’re _not_ Blaine.”

“Right,” Ben says, feeling a little bad since clearly Finn must be a little (or a lot) slow. “I’m Ben. Kurt’s roommate. At school.”

“Why isn’t Blaine here?”

“The question you should really be asking is why isn’t Blaine in Kurt’s pants?”

“Ben!” Oh damn, he forgot that Kurt had only gone up to his room to have a fashion-related chat with Mercedes, some emergency over something _tragic_ coming back into style. Ben doesn't get this mysterious “Fashion” with a capital F. Outside of the school uniform, he’s battered jeans and t-shirts with the occasionally hand-me-down flannel.

He thinks it must make Kurt’s soul weep a little to see what Ben willingly wears when not forced into Dalton’s finest dorkery.

“Hey Kurt. Can you convince your stepbrother that I’m not Blaine and that Blaine isn’t like, hiding in your pants?”

Glaring at Ben, Kurt says, “Ben’s staying over tonight because we need to get a few things for his car before we head back to Dalton tomorrow. Blaine is probably at his house, where he lives, and why are you sitting on Ben’s temporary bed?”

“Oh,” Finn says, looking at the folded comforter that he’s sitting on. “I thought this was a new pillow or something.”

If looks could kill, Finn would be a smoldering heap right now.

“So uh,” Finn begins as he gets up, easily towering over him. It makes Ben really miss Sam. Not even Ben's final growth spurt made him eye level with Sam and apparently, Finn.“You’re just his roommate, right?”

“Well, I know that we’re young but I could propose to him if you want. Hey, Kurt? You want to play Left 4 Dead?”

“You play video games?” Finn asks excitedly at the same time Kurt says, “I’d rather hear you sing Black Sabbath’s entire oeuvre.”

“I can only play video games while singing Black Sabbath.”

“Hate you,” Kurt says as he climbs the stairs.

“He’s just saying that,” Ben confides to Finn. “I think he’s gotten used to me.”

“Okay,” Finn says, confused as ever. “You’re not like, _secretly_ dating Kurt or anything, right?”

“No, dude.”

“You don’t… _want_ to date him?”

“I’m straight. Hey, if this is how you’re going to interrogate potential boyfriends you better step it up. I’m not even shaking in my boots.”

Finn looks down. “But you’re not wearing boots.”

“Well, not on my feet.” He then gives Finn his most winning smile, which he knows has earned a few well-deserved sucker punches because he learned it from Dean and it’s a fucking antagonizing smile.

Alas, poor Finn, he only takes it at face value, breaking into his own wide smile. “Oh, okay. Cool. So do you want to kill some zombies?”

“Only the video game kind, man. The real ones are a bitch to kill and you can run out of silver stakes with a quickness and it sucks cutting off heads. Gets real boring and that’s when the zombies get into a bite-frenzy.”

Finn laughs because he thinks Ben’s joking. If only.

 

*

 

Ben does a very good job of not being that guy. You know. The one who clearly has a screw loose in the bad way, spends a little too much time fitting the loner profile, maybe plays with matches or talks longingly about weapons.

He doesn’t do any of that because it lets him actually be the real version of that guy, the one who knows the way the world’s really made of scary shit and sometimes you’ve got to etch a few symbols where no one will notice for protection’s sake. Sure he might have gotten a tattoo while underage, but the chicks dig it, so no one ever asks what it means. Keep it secret, keep it safe.

Fuck, he got that from _Lord of the Rings_. Whatever, that movie’s badass.

So he almost gives the whole fucking game away when he’s woken up by someone he does not identify as family or friend (and really by friend, he means Kurt, because he’s the only other person he’s shared a sleeping space with). Natural instinct kicks in and he tackles the intruder to the ground and pulls out the knife he secretly keeps in his pillow, almost bringing it down to the intruder’s throat before he looks down and oh, _fuck it all to hell_.

“Blaine! You’re uh, here early.”

Well. He’s royally just fucked himself.

“It’s ten a.m. Any reason you’re trying to stab me to death?”

“Oh,” Ben says with a fake laugh, dropping the knife on a coffee table. “I lived in Detroit for a while? Not the safest place to be and uh, I know how to hunt. Animals. Because you know, deer meat is tasty.”

It’s _kind_ of true. Although he can’t freaking stand deer meat.

“You could get off of me,” Blaine suggests.

“That’s a good idea,” Ben agrees, rolling off and situating himself back on the couch. “Sorry about that, I’m a touchy sleeper.”

“Among other things.”

“Dude, don’t be a dick.”

“Sorry, Ben, I’ll do better next time someone almost stabs me and be more polite.”

“That’s your problem.”

“What?”

“You think it’s cool as long as you’re polite. Newflash, douche bro, just ‘cause you think you’re nice doesn’t mean you’re not an asshole.”

“So you decided to stab me?”

“I would’ve stabbed anyone.” Ben doesn’t mean to sound petulant but it’s hard when Blaine clearly has the higher ground here. After all, he could’ve gotten himself stabbed just for not realizing Ben’s kind of a secret freak. “I don’t like being woken up by surprise.”

“Obviously. Look,” Blaine begins, “I know we hate each other—”

“We do?” Ben’s kind of proud of his mock surprise face, it catches Blaine off guard and he almost smiles for a second before Blaine comes to his senses.

“I don’t like you, but I like Kurt. So, as long as you never pull a knife on me—seriously what was that?—we could at least be civil to each other. For Kurt’s sake.”

Ben considers this proposal for the amount of time it deserves, which is approximately two seconds. “No way.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, you know more about me than I know about you. But what I do know about you isn’t all that awesome. You’re fake and scared of doing what’s hard and you’re jealous as fuck about me and Kurt, even though the only thing that’s ever gonna happen there is maybe Kurt might admire my awesome ass. But that’s as far that goes. He could be admiring your ass,” and here Ben looks around because that’s a great line for Kurt to come charging in but clearly Kurt’s elsewhere so he might as well milk this for all it’s worth. “But he’s not. Because you don’t want him to—”

“I don’t,” Blaine cuts himself off, frustrated. “It’s complicated. I want Kurt to be my friend.”

“Boat sailed on that a long time ago, I’m guessing. Or you wouldn’t hate my fucking guts.”

“Well considering you almost spilled my guts, I don’t have much reason to like you.”

“There you go. Stuck on the past. That was _minutes_ ago.”

“I’m going to excuse that based on the way you were brought up.”

Ben really, truly does not meant to hit Blaine. Really. He doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t really hit Blaine so much as open-hand slap him. A bitch-slap if you will, which is probably rude and totally out of line but Blaine did just diss his family and no, _that’s_ crossing the line.

“What the hell?”

Oh. Of course that’s when a wild Kurt appears, clearly post-whatever complicated ritual he undergoes on weekend mornings to face the day.

“Um, Blaine was being an asshole about my family.”

“He tried to _stab_ me!”

“Dude, let it go!”

“Why,” Kurt says, evenly, studying the scene before him, Blaine standing up, holding his reddened cheek and Ben dressed in his ragged t-shirt and boxers, “is there a knife on the coffee table?”

“I sleep with it?” Ben doesn't mean to phrase it as a question, but it's a hard sell.

“Oh, it’s that knife,” Kurt says dismissively. “Okay so, Blaine, why are you here this early?”

“Finn let me in, Kurt, he tried to _stab_ me.”

“You knew about the knife?” Ben asks.

Both answers were shouted at the same time but Kurt hears them both. “Um, okay, that was nice of Finn to not let me know, and of course I knew about the knife. I was cleaning our room a month ago and it fell out of your pillow. I figured it was your security blanket.”

“You were okay with having some guy keep a knife in your room?” Blaine asks and hey, not cool taking his anger out on Kurt. “Do I even have to tell you how illegal that is?”

“Safety is never illegal.” Ben says which might not have been the best thing because damn, Blaine can work an angry look even with his hand still over his face.

“Says the _car thief_.”

Kurt sighs, walking into the room and yanking down Blaine’s hand to inspect the damage to his face. Quietly he says, “You’ll be fine.” Then he adds, “Ben, you shouldn’t have bragged about stealing a car.”

“Hey,” Ben says, “I wasn’t bragging. I was almost banned from ever getting a car after I pulled that stunt.”

“You brag about everything,” Blaine bitches, which is rare, Blaine letting loose his full bitch monster in front of Kurt. “You make everything sound amazing and perfect when you’re just…an asshole who keeps messing with my—”

“Yes? I believe the word you want is—”

“Stop it, Ben,” Kurt says, not even bothering to turn around. “You’re not helping. I think Blaine and I need to have a talk in private. Maybe you should get dressed.”

“Fine,” Ben says, snatching his bag behind the couch. “Maybe I’ll take a walk around the block too. You guys need a hell of a lot of time to catch up. I’ll give you a topic. Boyfriends. Why the fuck aren’t you two idiots dating?”

It’s not Ben’s proudest moment, storming out of that living room, but at least he has the wherewithal to grab his knife so Blaine doesn’t feel an urge to try running after him with it.

 

*

 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic calling his dad but fuck it, Ben almost stabbed a dude, then bitch-slapped him, and finally set about pissing off one of the few friends he actually has in the world.

“Been a while since you’ve made a call to me. What, you remembered your old man?”

“Nah, I just woke up in the middle of nowhere after twenty-four hours playing poker and called the first number I had in my head. Car’s gone too. Lost it in a bet.”

“Try harder at giving me a heart attack next time. That’s weak.”

“You’re right, I’m awesome at poker.”

“Yeah, you keep on believing that. So what’s up?”

“Boys are real fucking dumb.”

“Uh. We gonna have this chat? Because maybe Sam—”

“I might’ve cried about Noelle dumping me,” and Ben can only admit this to Dean since he’s the one who witnessed Ben’s tears after all, “but I’m still ladies only. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Oh. Well. Uh. You know I’m not real good at this stuff.”

“I’m not either. Just calling to check up. Things good there?”

“Real good,” and Ben can picture Dean’s full smile, the kind that’s real rare when it’s offered, but a hell of a sight to see. “We miss you but we’re gonna make it up there before your next break. Maybe make a thing of it with your mom. Who I bet you haven’t been calling.”

“I’ve been sending my postcards. Like always.”

“How many Ohio postcards can one person get?”

“You jealous?”

“A little. We need to get better at checking in.”

“Well, soon I’ll be with you and Sam—”

“Ben, don’t.”

“What? Do you want to talk about college? Because I thought Sam was supposed to be buttering me up to sign up for four more years I don’t need.”

“You’re angry,” Dean says bluntly, his level voice alone making Ben ashamed for snapping at him. “But not about that.”

“No. I might’ve done some damage to a couple of people. One of them might be a friend. Sort of. The other guy’s a dick.”

“Huh.”

“Huh? Is that all you’re gonna say?”

“Well. Sometimes the people we think are dicks are, y’know, people. Hate to say it, but you can be a dick sometimes too. You’re my kid and all.”

“So what?”

“Maybe you don’t like the guy because he reminds you of someone.”

“No way.”

“Or maybe he’s a dick. Point is some people are dicks. You just gotta deal with it.”

“Thanks for the words of wisdom.”

“Well, I’m awesome, so suck it, kid.”

Ben laughs and he’s glad that Dean joins in. When he says his goodbye, it’s with feeling and he promises that he’ll see him and Sam come next break.

 

*

 

“Hey guys,” Ben says, not bothering to knock since the door is freaking open, “Look maybe I’ve been kind of a jerk but—oh, shit! Sorry.”

Ben’s walked into a few things he regrets seeing. He’s gotten very good at blocking out the life-scarring visuals on a near-daily basis. But still, seeing Kurt and Blaine sprawled on the couch, tongues warring for supremacy isn’t a memory he’s ever gonna cherish.

Though it does totally make him right—fuck talking there are at least two other things that can be done better with mouths—and there’s nothing finer than a little self-righteousness when it’s earned. “See? It’s so much easier to not to repress and get your ya-yas out. Well. I’m not really sure what it’s supposed to be called when it’s guy on guy.”

Kurt’s the first one to scramble to a standing position and hey, he’s totally pulling his sweater over his crotch. Classy. “Shut up, Ben. I’m still mildly angry at you.”

“But you’re smiling,” he points out.

“So?” Kurt huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Happy people can’t be angry.”

Blaine, still trying to make himself look decent and man, his hair is _hilarious_ when it’s freed from his used car salesman oil slick, turns to Kurt and asks, “Why didn’t I notice before that he never makes sense?”

“Because you were crazy in love with me and denying it for the sake of our friendship?”

“Wow, you guys really went through a lot since I’ve been gone. Good job.” Ben’s high five is left hanging and he slowly lowers his arm. Finally he says, “Okay, this is a long time coming, but uh, Blaine? I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Blaine asks, warily.

“Um…all of it?”

“That’s not really an apology,” Kurt admonishes, sitting back down next to Blaine, their hands glancing against each other before they move apart and finally close together. Aww, they’re at the holding hand stage. Even Ben’s a little jealous at that, sickeningly adorable as it is, so he decides not to mock them.

“Sorry I almost stabbed you and hated you because you’re kind of annoying.”

“Ben!”

“What? I’m being honest. He is annoying. You’re just too in love with him and don’t notice when he’s being a douche.”

“Oh, I do,” Kurt says while Blaine jerks his head, looking so offended that for a moment, Ben legitimately likes Blaine. “Admittedly, I’m not perfect either.”

That’s kind of amazing coming from Kurt Hummel.

“I’ll consider accepting your apology,” Blaine says tersely after an intense staring contest with Kurt.

Ben makes a mental note that he should check into any potential telepathy at the school (and man, now that he has the time he really needs to solve the mystery of the slow-motion hallway) and nods. “Hey when you guys aren’t sucking face and doing other stuff, we can totally double date.”

“You’re dating?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. I can always get a date. I’ve been a little busy trying to get my roommate and his stupid boyfriend to admit how stupidly in love they are, but yeah now that I have free time, sure. I am open for business. Which, speaking of business, I hope you guys are open for each other. In love I mean. Not just in your pants.”

Blaine actually blushes at that, which is impressive because he’s still got the faint handprint of Ben’s slap outlined against his cheek. Maybe Ben should add that to his apologies and he does. “Hey man, I shouldn’t have hit you.” Because it’s nicer than saying sorry about the bitchslap.

“I shouldn’t have insulted your family. You, well, Kurt’s told me it’s complicated, but that they really care about you.”

“We care about each other, yeah. That’s what a family’s supposed to do.” Ben kindly does not mention saving the world. Not every family can be as awesome as his.

“I thought about running away once. Not because I was searching for my father, or because I was looking for answers, but because I was tired of—”

“Hey, I get it,” Ben says, hand waving the needless angst Blaine’s clearly desperate to spill to him. They’re not that close. Yet. “People can be real dicks. Especially to people who are different.”

“You are wise beyond your years.”

Kurt’s insulting him but Ben’s appreciating the higher ground so he stays on it, ignoring the dig.

“Yeah, well, I take after my old man. So, we gonna blow this joint or do you need a little more time to blow—”

“Ugh, shut up, Ben. You’re ruining the moment.”

“Okay,” he says cheerfully, diving towards them and before they know what’s about to hit ‘em, he’s got them wrapped tight in the most awkward, longest hug that ever existed possibly in the entire world. Ben’s been told he’s a good hugger and he’s pretty sure it isn’t weird to snuffle his face in between Kurt and Blaine’s heads, except how it totally is but he’s got to at least get one last time of messing with these guys in before they realize that he genuinely likes them.

Well. He’s still not all that sure about Blaine.

When Blaine and Kurt both inform him how much they hate him, Ben knows everything’s going to be all right.

 

*

 

The last few months of Ben’s final year of high school are interesting, to at the least.

No, he never figures out what the hell’s going on with that damn hallway.

Yes, he continues to avoid the Warblers, now that he no reason to stalk their rehearsals although he does make the fatal mistake of getting caught doing karaoke with Blaine (shut up, at least Blaine appreciates _Immigrant Song_ for its epicness) and has to politely and repeatedly decline auditioning.

Don’t be shocked that Ben’s secretly awesome at singing; of course he is, especially when he’s drunk.

No, he’s still not over Noelle but he figures time heals all wounds and shit. If he backslides and maybe drunk-dials her one night, well fuck off, at least she answered and gave him more of a reason why they broke up other than her chasing her dreams in sunny California. He’s not the only one who’s a dumb teenager, okay?

Yes, he has two good friends now. People that want to hear him share stories of adventures on the road with Dean and Sam, though he does edit out a lot of the good stuff. Blaine apparently is kind of a chill guy now that he’s sorted out whatever the hell was making him such a psycho, and he even laughs when Ben jokes that being almost stabbed did him a world of good.

When he’s got the time, he heads to Lima, not to hang with Kurt, because dude, cockblock much, but to whip Finn’s ass at whatever game they’re playing. Yeah, maybe he sharks a little at the local pool hall, but what’s wrong with earning a little spending money?

Life’s good and he’s almost not craving hitting the road every chance he slides into his car. At least he doesn’t want to take off once he gets his hands on the wheel, so yes, he’ll count that as progress. Sometimes he’s gotta drive and there’s nothing wrong with a midnight drive when he knows how to sneak around curfews and make his way back in the dorm undetected.

It’s the perfect crime and man, he’s exhausted, and as he vaguely thinks about getting into bed he notices that Kurt and Blaine are totally breaking the _don’t get caught hooking up_ rules, spooning in bed under the covers. Well, Ben has to sit down and watch that, admiring his handiwork.

Man, Kurt’s chair is like super comfortable. So it’s no surprise that he wakes up after completely passing out in Kurt’s awesome chair, his pants around his ankles. Hey, he did plan on dressing down for bed.

“I wasn’t jerking off” probably isn’t the best way to explain how he wound up that way but come on, he’s not the one sitting in bed stark naked totally post-coital. That’s not allowed if Ben’s brief review of Dalton’s rules is accurate.

Because, seriously, while he and Blaine have mended their ways, especially once Ben learned Blaine can rock a mean actual guitar, he’d rather share a bed with a slew of creepy things that go bump in the night before waking up next to Blaine. He’s got explicit proof that Blaine’s a cuddler and Ben is not down for that.

“Oh god,” Kurt moans. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Blaine offers, muffled by the t-shirt he’s yanking over his head, pointedly not looking at Ben.

Ben is slightly jealous of Blaine’s chest hair. He will never admit that, even under pain of death.

“I can explain.”

“No,” Kurt decides, pushing his matted hair off his forehead. “No explanations. Just go to your bed, I don’t care how, if you waddle over there, just go there and go to sleep, Ben.”

“Can I take off my pants?”

“I’m going to pretend I’m dreaming,” Blaine decides. “I feel it’ll be less life-scarring.”

“And you were worried that he’d seduce me,” Kurt says. Then he adds fondly, “Idiot.”

“Your chair is cursed,” Ben says, the only possibly answer to this madness. “It was touched by a siren and uh, makes people sleepy. Wait. Sirens make people want to have sex or fight. Man, why didn’t I think of getting a siren? Eh, it probably would’ve made you guys fight.”

“Ben,” Kurt says with the patience of someone a moment away from a stone-cold throttling, “do you remember how you were worried that I was going to be insane?”

“…Yeah?”

“You’ve driven me to that point. I’m going to set your car on fire.”

“Not cool, man. After all she’s done for you.”

“I don’t want to know,” Blaine says, throwing himself back into the bed, nearly smothering himself with a pillow. Then deciding better, he peels it off his face. “You do know that sirens aren’t real, right?”

“Right,” Ben lies. “Vampires, zombies, demons, witches, gypsies, tramps, and thieves. All fake.”

He’s rewarded with two pillows thrown with deadly accuracy to his face but at least Kurt and Blaine aren’t still glaring at him like he’s a life-ruiner.

How could he possibly be? He’s a damn hero.

 

*

 

The last postcard he sends while he’s in Ohio is a hasty scrawl that bears a striking resemblance to his handwriting at the tender age of thirteen. Fuck it, he’s in a rush and he’s only got a couple of hours before Dad and Sam show up and it’s a long way to California, so he’s gotta head out soon after he’s done explaining a few things.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing to Mom,” he answers, not surprised at Kurt sliding into his passenger seat. Kurt fiddles with the stereo, shutting off the CD to switch on FM and man, Kurt’s lucky that he’s totally Ben’s best bro for life, because that is not okay according to the rules of the road. Even though the car’s parked.

“Planning on running away?”

“Hey, I graduated.”

“You finished your finals. There’s a difference.”

“You wanted to see me in the cap and gown, huh? Kinky.”

Kurt doesn’t let Ben change the subject, his hand warm on Ben’s wrist, grounding him. It’s not a time for jokes or evasive tactics. Still, Ben’s gonna try.

“Ben. What are you doing?”

“Making a fool out of myself.”

Kurt makes a noise in his throat, all too knowing. “California.”

“A guy can dream.”

“Yes, that’s what worries me. You’re still not over her. Even with your questionable conquests as of late.” Put it to Kurt to make Ben’s dating life sound so sketchy.

“It’s something I gotta do, okay? Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same thing. You’re kinda crazy about love, too.”

Kurt’s eyes narrow. “I’m not _crazy_.”

“Totally bonkers.” Ben looks down at his postcard, the only thing missing is his usual _love you, Ben_. The words have never scared him or the power behind it, just how easily it can be thrown away. “I’ve been lying to you the whole time I’ve known you, by the way.”

“Ben—”

“Let me finish. You know, what my dad and Sam do? It’s not all fun and games, journeymen traveling the road. It’s real important stuff. And I’m gonna do it too, maybe even if I do go to college or try to hold down a 9 to 5. It’s like…when you know what’s going on, you can’t just turn a blind eye to it.”

“It sounds like you’re in the mob. Or a spy.”

“Spies are cool,” Ben admits. “But I’m not a spy.”

“You’d make a terrible spy. If Blaine wasn’t so oblivious, he’d have figured out what you were doing, trying to flirt with me in front of him.”

“I always liked Indy over James Bond.”

“So you’re an archeologist?”

Ben can’t say it. He can’t do it to Kurt, let the walls of his imperfect reality come shattering down for good. Because yeah, people can be dicks, but there’s so much worse out there and it’s not Ben’s job to tell him how it is. It’s to protect him, protect the world, and fuck his selfishness, he’s gotta be the bigger man.

“Yeah. I’m a regular Indiana Jones.”

“So you’ve got to run off on your mission to profess your love? That doesn’t sound very Indy.”

“It’s not,” Ben says, smiling. “It’s _me_.”

Kurt rarely initiates hugs. He’ll suffer Ben when he tackles him, say something aggravated to Blaine at the cruel indignities he’s been forced to bear, but to lean over and hug Ben, no that’s never happened.

He’s a good hugger; he should do it more. Hell, he probably does it a lot with Blaine and that’s just selfish. Kurt better spread the wealth.

Ben tells Kurt as much and Kurt’s kindness meter has clearly run its course as he swats him.

“Ow.”

“You better call me. To check in, at least.”

“I will drunkenly text Blaine explicit tales of my victorious reunion with Noelle. At least.”

Kurt laughs. “Excellent.”

“Hey,” Ben says, since this could very well be the last damn time he’s ever gonna see Kurt in person. “You’re all right.”

“You’re obnoxious, irritating, and utterly classless. I don’t entirely hate you.”

“Taking that as a victory.”

“You should,” Kurt says. Then he digs into his satchel, pulling out a CD case. “I know how terribly old-fashioned you are so I put together, well, a mix tape of sorts.”

“It’s not on a tape though.”

“Ben,” Kurt says seriously, “don’t disrespect my gift.”

“How much Lady Gaga is on it?”

“One song and I know you like it. I’ve seen you dance around to it when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

Damn him.

“Well. Uh. This isn’t goodbye, but it’s like, maybe I’ll see you again?”

God, Ben can be really shit at goodbyes.

“No.”

“What?”

“I took the time to throw you a going away party once I realized why you were moping during finals, so you’re going to come back into the senior commons with me, accept the wonderful a capella treatment I’ve arranged for you—of a song you will not hate, I can assure you—and you will pretend to be surprised.”

“Man. You’re _evil_. You put that guilt to good use and you can rule the world.”

“I’m counting on it,” Kurt says smoothly, sliding out of the car. “Now get your ass in gear, Winchester.”

“See? I have rubbed off on you.”

Kurt blinks at him for a moment before shuddering. “Sorry. Your innuendos have ruined me for normal conversation.”

“Dude, you’re taken and missing a few essential parts. I knew you were kidding. Plus, I’m not about to give you the full Ben Winchester experience.”

“On second thought, I’m canceling the party.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna happen,” Ben says, locking up the car and following Kurt back into the school.

It should be a stupid idea, not getting the fuck out of Dodge before the cavalry arrives (because there’s no way he’ll be able to sneak out once Dean or Sam figures out he’s about to pull a dumbass teen move) but Ben’s pretty lucky, all right? Things tend to fall in place, and if there’s anyone who’s gonna see what summer will bring and maybe have things work out for him in the end, then it’ll happen to him.

“Hey I realized you’ve never met my dad and Sam.”

“I am curious what they’re like in person,” Kurt admits as they avoid the slow-motion hallway, a mystery that will have be solved by a person with a hell of a lot more time on his hands. “Also a little worried that they’re like you, only older.”

“Nah, I’m an original. Dad thinks I’m a chip off the block, but I’m totally cooler. And taller.” Then Ben realizes he can totally scare the crap out of his old man. “Hey you guys still know the lyrics to that really gay song, right?”

“You know, you can’t use the ‘I have two gay dads’ excuse when you say stuff like that, right?”

“Whatever, I mean the song you and Blaine sing when you’re being all love-y and ten seconds away from totally screwing in front of everyone.”

Kurt makes a small motion with his hand to signify that yes, he knows but makes no further reply.

“When they get here, it would be cool if you could dedicate it to my dads.”

Smiling, Kurt nods. “That’s really sweet.”

Also it will totally send Dean into a spiral of confusion and mortification since he’s not fond of _show choirs_ and Sam will need to distract him in ways Ben is so very not going to think about. That’s plenty of time to get Ben a little headway on the road.

“What can I say? I’m nothing if not awesome.”

“You are something, all right,” Kurt agrees as they stand in front of the oak doors. “Okay, big surprised face in one, two—”

Maybe shrieking in horror was a little heavy-handed, but Ben’s never not going to give it his all.

 

*

 

There are more postcards he sends to his mom, a trail spreading from Ohio to California, countless calls and texts to anyone who cares to listen, just to check in, to say with meaning that he’s fine, that he’s taking care of himself, that no, he is not a crazy person, what the hell, it’s romantic, not creepy, who asked you, Blaine?

 **You did.** came the text back and oh yeah, drunk-texting Blaine isn’t always the best idea when he’s feeling a mite bit nervous about his prospects.

But it doesn’t matter. The road can stretch out forever and there might be some real sons of bitches out there spoiling for a fight but Ben’s a Winchester through and through. Got stubbornness in his blood and there’s no end to his story, only a whole lot of really weird and badass beginnings.


End file.
